Description
Cho stands at about 5'3" and looks, with her huge brown eyes, nearly nonexistent bust and small, delicate hands and feet, more like a fourteen-year-old than a waitress in her early twenties. She has long, straight brown hair that if let loose would fall to her knees, but since it is usually done up in a braid or something, it appears wavy if you saw her let it out. In fact, mostly the hair is kept back. Cho's cat ears, sitting on top of her head, are the same color as her tail: cocoa brown. Both furry features are short-haired but soft and silky. In both the time periods Cho can function in, modern and feudal Japanese, she is a waitress and although in the modern one her uniform is a
Swedish navy dress with a lacy apron and in the feudal Japanese era it's a short floral kimono with a red obi and her normal dress for the modern is a kimono, due to her obsession with ancient Japanese culture, and her normal dress for the feudal Japanese version is a kimono (if longer than her uniform one.)
Personality
Cho often tends to be bashful and quiet, as well as very prone to hiding behind others and lacking battle skills. However, once she starts to sing, it's like she's a whole new person. Her shyness and quietness melt away into a melody of deep, moving tones that someone would be surprised to see come out of the little neko. As soon as her performance is done, though, her old tenacity will retake its place in her demeanor. Only those close to her see a less-shy, less quiet side of Cho; she does actually have a sense of humor and will utilize it among those close to her.
However, since her father-figure and guardian just died, Cho has retreated into her shell and is now more shy than ever and cold towards anyone who dares approach.
Equipment
Modern
Cho never leaves home without a small leather backpack that serves as a sort of purse. It contains: $1000 (in cash and credit/debit cards),
a wallet, her ID, her Driver's License, a photograph of her late parents, three pairs of well-loved chopsticks, her iPhone, containing tons of traditional Japanese music, seasons of her favorite animes, and more.
As a weapon, she will make use of everything around, preferably her frying pan.
Feudal Japanese
Cho has little need to carry anything but a bit of money and cooking supplies.
As a weapon, she will make use of everything around, preferably her frying pan.
History
Modern
Cho was born in Japan and orphaned at an early age by a car accident, and taken in by the kindly Swedish bar owner who was a good friend of her parents, living in America. He taught her the trade of inns and restaurants, and now the neko is a successful waitress and innkeeper. Not much happened in her childhood aside from her orphaning; still, she grew up secretly wanting more. Her first debut of her voice was on a whim by her friend and father figure the barkeep. Cho was a big hit, and started regularly (although bashfully) singing on weeknights at the inn.
Cho's parents were indeed direct immigrants from Japan, which started her obsession with the country.
The first and only time a drunkard assaulted Cho in the inn while she was washing dishes in the back, the man had somehow slipped by the inn owner's eye, and it was the first time she broke out her frying pan. She really didn't mean to; it just... happened. One minute, the drunk was leering over her with a sickening smile, and the next he was on the ground. After that, no one messed with Frying-Pan Cho.
Unfortunately, he old barkeep fell ill and died recently. The inn was not left to Cho, but sold to a business tycoon because apparently the innkeep was in debt. She does not like the new owner at all and is very silent and almost cold around him, shunning his almost dangerously flirtatious advances outright. She is still in grief over the loss of her father-figure. The customers comfort her as best they can; but poor Cho is heartbroken. Whereas she was extremely shy before, she has now receded almost entirely into her shell.
Cho doesn't sing anymore.
Feudal Japanese
Cho was orphaned at an early age, and taken in by the kindly old village bar owner. He taught her the trade of inns and restaurants, and now the neko is a successful waitress and inkeeper. Not much happened in her childhood aside from her orphaning; still, she grew up secretly wanting more. Her first debut of her voice was on a whim by her friend and father figure the barkeep. Cho was a big hit, and started regularly (although bashfully) singing on weeknights at the inn.
The first and only time a drunkard assaulted Cho in the inn while she was washing dishes out back, was the first time she broke out her frying pan. She really didn't mean to; it just... happened. One minute, the drunk was leering over her with a sickening smile, and the next he was on the ground. After that, no one messed with Frying-Pan Cho.
The old barkeep fell ill and died recently. The inn was left to Cho with all its assets, although she is still in grief over the loss of her father-figure. The customers comfort her as best they can; but poor Cho is heartbroken.
Cho doesn't sing anymore.
So begins...
Alighieri cackled with the roar of a thousand dying races, a terrifying scream which echoed into the depths of the void.
The expanse of the void was endless, and he just wanted a beer, anything good and strong, and it didnt just matrialise out of nothing. So how to get out of the endless expanse of a rather beautiful endless flower meadow was actually rather nice. It was not often he got to really just wander a flower meadow, and as beautiful as it was, there had to be a door or a window or something.
Finally finding what looked like a door frame, with no visible door per sei, he tried going through it, like it was a opening in a fence, and promptly smacked into a door panel with a hard thud. The dragon saw he couldnt fit through the door but it was infact a door. Dust was on the ground among the beautiful flowers but he felt he should not disturb the dust, it was after all possible that someone had distributed family ashes there. And just being there made the dragon shift form to his human asize and get to his knees, bowing three times towards a nearby small pile of void dust before getting to his feet.
Turning back to the door frame he found the4 handle. But something made him halt. Where there others looking for the door that he had just found ?
“
Kragum!? I ahear you, n'where you in this... darkness?
”
Kragum followed the sound of Fesna's voice through the Infinate Void. Finally her figure faded from the darkness.
Fesna's heart fluttered as Kragum faded through the black. A tear came to her eye as she rushed him, leaping forward for an embrace. She was confused - just moments ago they had been enjoying a flagon. Or was it moments ago?
“
...It me, Kragum. Y'know another smellin' fine as I?
”
Kragum shook his head and tried to smile. She caught on to his suspicions. With everything that had happened back at Wanderer's Camp, could you blame him? The supernatural bit at the edges of their sanctuary and pushed the folk further into Wing City. Now...where were they?
smack!
"What was that?!" Fesna clung to Kragum and aimed doe eyes at the noise. It sounded almost as if...someone had...hit their head?
Fesna looked at Kragum as thescent of flowers drifted from the source of the sound. She broke away from Kragum and not one step later was suddenly surrounded in an endless meadow of flowers. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized the beauty of the place, but also the infinity of it. Then, it hit her.
Kragum must have blinked wrong. Suddenly he was in an endless flower meadow-and how did Fesna get so far away?! He would have enjoyed the scenery, if he wasn't so suspicious, and if he hand't just been drinking rum at a bar!
He waved his arms over his head to get her attention and started off towards her through the flowers.
"Fesna! Do not move!" Kragum had no idea how things worked in this strange place. He didn't like it, and he didn't want to lose her again. He charged forth and left a path of disgruntled vegetation behind him.
Kragum stopped in his tracks as Fesna's wail reached him, a chill brushing over his skin. He picked up the pace, and this time it was Kragum's turn to go in for a hug.
Fesna embraced him back and began to weep. She wasn't ready to die! She had things to do, places to see! Remorse for wasted time hit Fesna like a ton of bricks.
“
Fesna.....hey, Fesna? Fesna!
....look over there?
”
Fesna gave a final pitiful sob, wiped her nose on Kragum's shoulder, and looked to where he was pointing.
There was a door, and it was closing.
She didn't even think twice grabbing Kragum's hand and barreling for the door.
Kragum let himself be dragged through the flowers, matching her speed and excitement. When they reached the door it had just clicked shut. Breathing hard, he bent over to catch up on air, and noticed a bunch of strange dust on the ground. That, too, unsettled him.
Fesna toed the dust gently, but Kragum yanked her away. She would have laughed at his superstition under almost any other circumstance.
Kragum gave Fesna a hard nod, and tried for the door. To both of their surprise it was unlocked!